Catharsis
by Mai x Mai
Summary: The Fischer job wasn't the first time that Arthur had met Ariadne. ArthurxAriadne, oneshot


**A/N:** **This oneshot has been floating in my head for a while, then I wrote out the summary for it in my thought book so I wouldn't lose it, and now I'm finally getting the chance to write it out! It's angsty, bear with me, and I'm not sure if anyone else has had this idea before, so if you did, I'm sorry. **

**Note: Arthurs age in the beginning is 23 (I figured he'd be 29 during Inception) and Ariadne's age in the beginning is 16 (23 during inception).**

**Disclaimer: All the genius belongs to Christopher Nolan. But Nokia doesn't, Nokia belongs to whoever created Nokia. I don't really know.**

The topic of the wonders of the subconscious mind has always been a favorite of Arthur's – especially dreaming. He _was _majoring in Psychology after all. And it was in college when Dominic and Mal Cobb had found him a seven years ago, offering him a job that he couldn't resist: _the chance to enter people's dreams_. He didn't think it was possible, but here he was, standing in Cobb's dream extracting information from the people in it (projections?) and bending the laws of physics, creating paradoxes and endless hallways and staircases. He raised skyscrapers from the floor and twisted the dreamscape to be whatever he wanted. It was amazing and exhilarating – he got to be God.

But it was all over too soon.

One minute he was raising towers from the ground and then the next he was getting strangled to death by Cobb's projections. And for those painstakingly long minutes he thought he was really going to die because everything had been too _real_ to be a dream. But then he woke up, just as his last breath was being choked from his body, and he sat up like lightning, clutching his throat and taking ragged breaths in. _It was just a dream_ he kept reminding himself, over and over. _It's not real_ he tried to convince himself. _It wasn't real, you didn't die._ He released his grip on his throat as Cobb calmed him down; walking him through his first brutal awakening, reminding him that none of it was real. _But it's real to you._

It was at this point that Cobb introduced to him the idea of a totem and showed him Mal's top for an example.

"It keeps you from going mad," he said with a reassuring smile.

He returned with a loaded red die, fixed to land on the number six. When asked for the meaning behind it he retorted with, "It gives me something to control in a world that is uncontrollable, I always know the outcome of this die. But when I'm dreaming, it'll be the one thing I can't control aside from the projections." Cobb gave him a lopsided smile, proud of his answer and reasoning.

Everything was going smoothly, the jobs that were being offered to trio were being compensated quite generously (Arthur was able to pay off all his college tuition and still had plenty left over) and Arthur hadn't lost touch of reality like Cobb had warned on their first extraction job nearly half a year ago. Another job offer came in a mere week after their latest extraction job and rose up the idea of dreams within a dream. But this job offer was different from the others the trio had accepted. Where the previous jobs were simple extractions of information from shady corporate leaders, this current job was given to them by a president of an architectural firm, Jonathan Stone, who had accidently impregnated his mistress and wanted them to corrupt her mind, making it seem like she was unfit to bear a child, forcing an abortion.

The team initially refused the offer with gusto; they could never do such a thing. But with the lack of job offers and the months spanning in between, they were all beginning to run low on funds.

"I know it's not right but-"

"No buts, Dom, this is murder," Arthur stated, a cold edge in his voice.

But even Arthur could see that without another job they would all be struggling to keep up with the day to day funds of life. He tried waiting it out, hoping for another (more _legal_ in the illegal sense) job to come along. But there was nothing, and with Stone's mistress's baby getting more and more developed he had no other choice. Even if he did decide to take up another, more _legal_ job the money wouldn't be coming in quick enough. And what about Dom and Mal? He couldn't abandon them. Once you were in this business you were stuck for good.

And so it was done. Within a week of the extraction (corruption? Arthur didn't know what to call it now) Stone's mistress was deemed unfit to carry the child and therefore had an abortion. Dom and Mal felt horrible, having two little children of their own, and took a long vacation with them to get their mind off of what they had just done. But it wasn't the same for Arthur. He had nowhere to escape to. He spent his nights having nightmares, alone in his one bedroom apartment looking over New York's Central Park, seeing the woman's manic expression, and the tears flowing down her face as she was taken to the abortion clinic. He felt like a monster. He _was_ a monster.

He awoke with a start one summer morning from the hideous and repetitive nightmare covered in sweat, tears staining his face. This was it, he couldn't handle one more nightmare filled night, he had to find an escape – he needed a catharsis.

He tried getting back into music, picking up his old guitar that was collecting dust in the forgotten corner of his room. He used to be really into music, he muses, so it should get his mind back to its state of normalcy. But it didn't help, his focus and heart wasn't there like it had been before the corruption. And just like music, all of his other attempts at normalcy failed. He threw down his notebook and pen in anger (he was attempting writing) as he made his way over to the window, where the blinding sun made Central Park look twice as green as it normally did. He sighed, since all else failed he might as well take a walk in the park.

The sun was beating down brutal rays of heat, causing a small line of sweat to form around his hairline. Wiping the sweat away he searches for an area that would provide protection from the merciless sun when his eyes land on a black park bench perched over the bright blue lake in the middle of the park. He sits down gratefully, happily taking in the scene around him as a young brunette girl whirls past him on a pair of rollerblades. It was surprising calm aside from the rollerblading girl, not many people were out that day, allowing him to his thoughts without any distractions.

He sighed, "I'm going too deep," he mumbled to himself, toying with the loaded red die in his jeans pocket.

Was this the point where he should stop? Should he go back to his college life that he had so willingly abandoned? Can he stop? _Will_ he stop? Arthur knew the answers to all these questions, but couldn't convince himself to believe the answer. Everything was just too amazing to fathom. He was obsessed, he knew that. He didn't want to give up the chance to play God, the chance to finally have control over an aspect in his life, even if it was just a dream.

"It's all a dream," he whispered to himself, pulling his totem to his sight, rolling the red loaded die around in the palm of his hand.

But dreams were merging with reality. He could no longer tell the difference from an experience in a dream to an actual memory anymore. He was losing himself.

Arthur was so immersed in his thoughts that he almost missed the sound of a twig breaking and the hushed yelp of surprise behind him. _Almost_.

He looked in the direction the sounds came from in the corner of his eyes. Behind a fairly large tree was the rollerblading girl from earlier, her big amber eyes peering around the edge of the tree, shimmering in curiosity, and her curly dark brown hair falling down her shoulders. She looked to be around the age of sixteen, just a high school kid. Normally, this wouldn't interest the dreamer. He was aware of his good looks, not to be conceited, and most often than not he gets a stare or two here and there. But there was something about her, something _different_ from all the other teenagers he had seen around this part of town. She wasn't looking at him the same way the other New York teenage girls had looked at him. Her eyes, instead of holding a small amount of lust and longing, only held curiosity, compassion, and concern? He felt a strong pull towards the rollerblading tree girl, and because of his damn curiosity he had to find out why.

"I know you're hiding, you can come out now," Arthur said, his voice gentle as he sticks his totem back into his pocket.

The rollerblading tree girl nearly falls over in surprise, catching herself on a low branch. She smiles a sheepish (and enchanting) smile as she mutters out an apology and turns to leave.

Arthur doesn't know where he got the will to say these next words, but he's certainly glad he did.

"Would you like to sit down with me?"

Rollerblading Tree Girl pauses and turns around, a small smile lighting up her young face as she replies, "Sure."

They sit in an awkward silence for a minute or two until Arthur finally speaks, "So why were you watching me from behind that tree?"

"You looked kind of distressed, and I wanted to ask you what was on your mind, but I guess I couldn't get the courage to do that," Rollerblading Tree Girl says as she casts her eyes downward, watching the wheels of her rollerblades rotate as she swings her legs back and forth.

A bemused smile showed on Arthurs face, "And why would you care for a total stranger?"

"You looked too nice to be sad and besides, there's nothing wrong with caring for the well being of another." She sends him a smile, her cheeks dusting pink with embarrassment.

"There's no need to be embarrassed, if everyone cared as much as you do we'd be living in a better place," His mind momentarily flickers to Jonathan Stone and his corrupted mistress and he shakes his head as if he were shaking the memory from his mind.

His sharp features flicker with distress for a second which Rollerblading Tree Girl noticed. She looked up at him again, concern flashing her unmasked face. "Is something wrong? You have that distressed look on your face again."

"It's nothing."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Rollerblading Tree Girl asks, her eyes downcast and voice soft, "Sometimes it helps talking to someone with no ties to you."

He contemplated the thought for a moment, pouring out his innermost thoughts to a complete stranger, a _sixteen year old _nonetheless. He was twenty-three years old, the thought seemed preposterous to him, using someone as a therapist whose biggest problem was a teenage heartbreak (he would learn later on that was far from her case). He didn't want to put his weight onto her shoulders; he couldn't corrupt her mind too. And to trust her was of another subject entirely. But again, he felt that magnetic pull towards her, like she was the sun and everything revolved around her, pulled towards _her_ gravitational pull. _Trust her_.

"It's complicated," he said with an exasperated sigh.

She was silent for a few moments as Arthur resisted the odd urge to run his hand through her messy chestnut curls. "I'm willing to listen if you're willing to tell."

And then Arthur found himself saying words that were locked away in the back of his mind, left to be forgotten and build up. He surprised himself, blurting out the first pain in his heart he's ever experienced: the death of his older brother. He tried to stop himself from spilling his life story, but her pull was just too strong. And so he continued, his adolescent life, teenage years, and those short few years in college until he was introduced to dreaming. He told her all that he could about dreaming without giving away what crimes they were actually committing, uptight on the details. But she didn't mind, she just listened, nodding her head occasionally, and looking up at him with such deep concentration. She was paying attention to him, something that Arthur was not used to. Arthur, the wallflower, observing those close enough to be observed but far enough not to attract attention, had never been given a second thought before Cobb and Mal waltzed into his life. And now here he was, telling his life story to a rollerblade clad sixteen year old who had such a hold on him he'd be worried if he didn't know self control.

"I think I'm starting to lose myself. The _project_ that we're working on in my _psychology_ firm is making me lose focus on reality. My dreams and memories are blurring together and I'm having a hard time telling which is which," he took a breath, "I think I'm starting to prefer my dreams from reality." Arthur felt his shoulders lighten and his mind clear. He'd found his catharsis and now he was just hoping that he didn't overwhelm the girl with his life crisis.

He did anything but that.

He hadn't overwhelmed her nor had he scared her away. Instead she was looking at him with a deep admiration which confused Arthur. Why would she be looking at him like that? Had he confused her look of admiration with something else? It drove him mad that he could not figure Rollerblading Tree Girl out, it was his job to figure people out the moment they exchange glances, damn it. Why had she approached him? Why did she feel the need to play therapist? What was it about her soft curly hair and her big amber eyes that just drew him in like a black hole? Why was she different from anyone he had ever met before?

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Arthur asked, confused at her admiring look.

"It's just amazing, for you to have gone through so much and still be so kind. I admire that," Rollerblading Tree Girl said to him, sincerity rich in her young voice, "most people become corrupted."

He chuckled sardonically, "and how do you know that I'm not corrupted."

"Someone who was corrupted wouldn't have spilled their life story to a sixteen year old stranger."

He smiled as he looked up at the sparkling lake in front of them, the late afternoon sun still beating down mercilessly, "Touché."

They sit in comfortable silence, taking in the others presence, and again Arthur felt that strange pull towards her, wanting to close the space between them on the bench. He shook the thoughts from his head, _she's sixteen, you're twenty-three, and that's a seven year difference_. But his subconscious fought back, _so? Your parents were twelve years apart._ He ran a hand through his hair, he was fighting with his own subconscious – he was going mad. He couldn't handle this much longer, he knew that.

"You can handle anything, you know," she said, breaking the silence and his thoughts. How had she…?

"There's something about you, I don't know what it is exactly, but I know that you'll be able to get through whatever you're going through. I also know that the thing with the dreaming, you weren't telling me the whole story. But that's okay, I wouldn't either. Besides, you're still in college, you wouldn't be employed in a psychology firm yet, you'd still be an intern," she continues, a knowing smile growing on her face

He smirked; he should've known that she would catch on to his lies. There's nothing quite like her.

"It's a shame," He said, turning his eyes towards her.

"What is?"

"That you're a twenty-three year old stuck in a sixteen year olds body."

She laughed and a shiver ran through his spine, "Are you hitting on me? That's illegal right now you know."

And he laughed too, a _real_ laugh as he took out the pen resting beside his totem in his pocket. He gently grabbed her wrists, his hand tingling at the contact, as he wrote down his phone number on her palm, the numbers resembling those of a doctor's. "Call me when you turn twenty-three."

She looked down at her palm and then back up at him, "That's seven years from now."

"I know," he said with confidence.

Raising her eyebrows she looked down at the number again, "Seven years is a long time, what will happen if your number changes?"

"I'll make sure it never changes."

"And what if I forget?" Her eyes rise to his, and he smiles at the eye contact.

"Let's hope you don't," he smiles at her reassuringly.

"And if you forget?" A flicker of sadness flashes in the amber ocean of her eyes.

"I'll never forget, there's nothing quite like you."

She smiles as she stands up on her skates, closing her open palm gently, "It's worth a shot," she said, leaning over and kissing him quickly and chastely on the cheek, electricity running through the both of them. Then she began to roll away, Arthur watching her curls bounce with the movement, sadden by her absence already. He realizes he never gotten her name, nor she him. But she turns around once she's ten feet away and quickly yells out, "**Don't let the dreams get in the way of your reality**."

He never forgets those words.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Seven years have passed. The number is still functional (he keeps the cell fully charged and with him at all times) and he still remembers that day vividly. He remembers that girl vividly. He had often wondered why he would do all of this, wait seven years for a call that would most likely not come, but he did it. He just didn't know why. He had asked Cobb about it (before Mal died) after he had seen her projection rolling (literally) around in his subconscious, constantly repeating those last words she had said to him. How could he feel so strongly about someone he had only met once? Someone who he would probably never see again? Was he in love? No, he couldn't be in love with her; he didn't even know her name.

But that didn't stop him from having his old Nokia cell phone attached to his hip once that seventh year rolled around.

He was starting to lose hope as summer was beginning to reach its climax; shouldn't she have turned twenty-three already? But his thoughts were shaken by their latest job. Inception.

His mind was forced to be void of Rollerblading Tree Girl, this new job commanding their total attention.

"We need a new architect," he said, swiftly looking through the manila folders in his hands.

Cobb's eyes gleamed with knowing, "I'll take care of that."

The next time Arthur sees Cobb he is accompanied by a petite college student with curly chestnut hair and big curious amber eyes that he'd be able to identify from anywhere. Was this _her_? His heart skipped a beat as Cobb introduced him. _Ariadne_, that's her name—a unique and beautiful name for a unique and beautiful woman. He searched her eyes for any recognition as her introduced himself.

"Arthur, it's a pleasure to meet you," _Again_.

She gave him a small smile, curiosity still dominating the soft features of her face, "It's nice to meet you, Dom has told me a lot about you."

No recognition.

He hid the anguish with a polite smile as Cobb took her to experience her first dream and he waits near her side as they dream, knowing what Cobb will do (it's the same thing he did to him during his first dream) and readying himself to comfort her. He was looking through files on their mark, Robert Fischer, when she awakens with a jolt, gasping for air, and in a second he's by her side.

"Hey, look at me, you're okay, you're okay." He helps her sit up as Cobb walks towards a room in the warehouse, having awoken seconds after her.

Mal killed her, lovely.

And then she's gone again, just as fast as she had come back. "She'll be back, they always come back," Cobb says as he stands by Arthur, sending him a knowing look.

He knew that Ariadne was Rollerblading Tree Girl.

And he was right, she did come back. Two days later he sees her fresh face come bounding through the steel doors of the concrete warehouse, he sole of her shoes clacking softly across the pavement. He looks up and smiles, "Cobb said you'd be back."

She smiles, amazement dancing across her face, giving him a look all too similar to the one she gave him in Central Park seven years ago, "I just couldn't say away. It's pure creation."

He smiles softly back, amusement dancing across his face, "There's nothing quite like it." _Quite like you_. Then he sees it, a flicker in her eyes as her smile grows.

The hope returns.

Several weeks later, after the whole team is assembled, his old Nokia cell phone rings for the first time in seven years ten minutes past midnight. He's shocked at first, frozen with surprise, before he reaches over his work desk with a shaking hand and answers the phone, "Hello?"

"_Hey Arthur._"

"Ariadne?" His heart lights up with that all too familiar feeling.

"_Who else were you expecting?_"

"No one," he pauses, he had to make sure that she _was_ Rollerblading Tree Girl, "how'd you get this number?"

He hears her laughter, the same laughter he heard seven years ago, over the phone, "_You gave it to me, seven years ago._"

He bears a wide smile, resisting the urge to dance around the hotel room he was in, Ariadne _is_ Rollerblading Tree Girl, she has been all along. "And why are you choosing now to call me?"

"_You said to call you when I turn twenty-three, right? I turned twenty-three ten minutes ago._"

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

She had led him out of the dark labyrinth in his subconscious seven years ago, and now she has found her way out of the complex maze created before them during those seven years of separation.

She approached him because she felt the same magnetic pull to him that he did for her. She felt sadden at his confliction, she just didn't know why. She drew him in because they were opposite sides of a magnet, drawn together no matter what happens. She was different from everyone else because _he loves her_, just as _she loves him_. That magnet? It was love at first sight; they just realized it seven years later.

**A/N: Yay! I finally got that written. I hope that wasn't too horrible, and I hope that it was understandable. Anyways, please leave a review! Your feedback is always welcomed.**

***EDITING NOTE: Thanks to Amanda, she pointed out my mistake about the seven dots on a die not being possible lol, I don't know what logic I pulled that out of, I changed it though! (updated September 9, 2010)**

***ANOTHER EDITING NOTE: Thanks to Legal-Assassin-006, the GIF that I got inspiration from was found :D If you're wondering what it is, go to my profile, a link is there. (Updated September 13, 2010)**


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